A Brush with Fate
by LokiDoodles
Summary: With the threat of the Oblivion crisis looming, it seems that Cyrodiil is lost. But the fate has bound together a mysterious, drifting mage and Emperor Uriel Septim's last remaining heir. Together they will fight to reclaim Tamriel and close Oblivion's gates forever. (HoKxMartin) (Rating may change)


**A Brush with Fate**

Chapter 1: Escape

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 _"I was born 87 years ago. For 65 year_ _s I've ruled as Tamriel's emperor, but for all these years, I've never been the ruler of my own dreams. I have seen the gates of Oblivion, beyond which no waking eye may see. Behold, in darkness, a doom sweeps the land. This is the 27th of Last Seed, the year of Akatosh, 433. These are the closing days of the third era, and the final hours of my life."_

 _~ Emperor Uriel Septim_

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In a prison cell, just outside of the gates of the Imperial City, sat a girl in a wooden chair staring hopefully through a barred window. Her name was Alsyrrya Farrey - a Breton much too far from home. Dark, unkempt, wavy tresses spilled across her shoulders down to the small of her back. Her strikingly cyan eyes studied the canvas of stormy gray in the sky, and watched as birds soared freely above.

Her usual traveling attire had been replaced with dirty sack cloth and iron manacles wrapped firmly around her alabaster wrists. The rust from the iron had already begun to scratch at her skin. The clothing given to her swallowed her lithe frame, but she retained her modesty. For now that's all she cared for.

She had no clue how long she had been in that cell, and she was far too frightened to inquire. But it was a reckless decision that brought her there in the first place. All she wanted was food. She came to Cyrodiil with little money and no name. She attempted to steal bread from the market district, but was immediately suspected when a loaf turned up missing. She couldn't pay the fine, so now here she was to serve her sentence.

"Gods damn it all," she muttered under her breath. She had no idea how long she would have to stay to pay back her wrongdoing, but she hoped she didn't starve to death before then. She hadn't even had a crumb since her arrival, and for all she knew the guards would forget her and leave her starving.

"Pale skin...snotty expression...," a male speaker gasped sarcastically, "You're a Breton."

Alsyrrya grew perturbed and walked toward the metal bars of the cell door to see the owner of the mocking voice. It was a dark elf - which she had guessed from his accent - who eyed her as though she were a pile of rotten garbage. He apparently had arrived shortly before herself.

"The masters of magicka, right? Hm! Nothing but a bunch of stuck up snobs with cheap parlor tricks...Go ahead try your magicka in here. Let's see you make those bars disappear!" he taunted.

Alsyrrya said nothing. Of course, being a Breton, she had a natural affinity for magicka. In her own opinion, she was neither the best nor the worst at her craft; however, she took offense at the slight towards her people. So she chose to ignore the dark elf across from her.

"No? What's the matter? Not so powerful now, are you, Breton?"

Alsyrrya returned to her seat, back turned away from the provocation. She closed her eyes and tried her hardest to push him away, tapping her fingers against the damp, stone wall.

"You're not leaving this prison until they throw your body in the lake."

She stiffened.

The dark elf grinned at her reaction, eyes narrow. He loved that he could make her squirm. "Oh, that's right. You're going to die in here, Breton. You're going to die-"

"-Shut up, Dark Elf, before I burn you alive," she spat. "These bars can't stop me." Her fingers knotted into a fist at her side.

"No, but the guards can," he growled. "And hey, do you hear that? They're coming now...for you." With this, he giggled evilly.

Hurried footsteps and hushed voices echoed through the corridors of the prison. Whoever was walking the halls wanted to remain as unnoticed as possible.

"Baurus, lock that door behind us," a female voice ordered.

"Yessir," a male replied, followed by the sound of a door closing and the jingle of keys.

"My sons...They're dead,aren't they?" another masculine voice inquired, obviously much older than the others.

"We don't know that, Sire," the female assured. "The messenger only said they were attacked."

The sounds created by the incoming party grew increasingly louder, as though they were on their way to her very location.

"No," the elder man replied, voice filled with a bitter sadness. "They're dead. I know it..."

"My job right now is to get you to safety," the feminine voice explained.

The party approached, and stood right in front of Alsyrrya's cell: two males in armor (a red guard and an imperial), one female in armor, and an elderly man in regal attire. The female of the group narrowed her eyes at the girl who could only gaze back in shock and trepidation.

"What's this prisoner doing here?! This cell is supposed to be off-limits," the woman barked, visibly unsettled.

"Unusual mixup with the watch... I...," the imperial guard returned, stumbling over his words.

"Never mind, get that gate open," she ordered again. Her focus turned to Alsyrrya. "Stand back, prisoner. We won't hesitate to kill you if you get in our way."

Alsyrrya obeyed without question. She turned and walked in the direction of the window, hearing the turning of the lock as she stepped and the rustle of heavy boots as they stomped against stone. She sensed the presence of one of the men following right behind her.

"You...I've seen you...," the eldest male in high-born's robes said to the girl. He raised his silver, sparse brows.

When she had placed herself by the window, where one of the guards stood to keep her at bay, she looked up at the one who addressed her. He was relatively tall, though most who stood near her seemed tall in comparison with her petite figure. The garments he wore were a finer cut than most nobles': a black cloak with white fur and golden accents over a red robe with golden filigree. A beautiful, large, crimson-jeweled amulet hung about his neck, plated with pure gold and encrusted with tiny stones which glimmered in the torchlight. His hair was silver, almost white. His eyes were a light shade of green, soft but full of apparent kindness. And in the light she could see that he had lived many years. There was something familiar about him, she just couldn't place it.

"You are the one from my dreams..." He looked away in thought. "Then the stars were right...and this is the day. Gods give me strength." A look of deeper concern crossed his countenance as he spoke to no one in particular.

Alsyrrya's eyes widened, deeply confused and surprised by his statement. "Pardon me, what's going on?"

"Assassins attacked my sons, and I'm next. My blades are leading me out of the city along a hidden escape route. By chance, the entrance to that escape route leads through your cell," the man explained. She noticed that seemingly with the snap of a finger, his composure had returned. This was obviously a learned trait.

"Who are you?" she asked. "Why am I in jail? I don't even know what I did wrong."

"I am your emperor, Uriel Septim. By the grace of the gods, I serve Tamriel as her ruler. Perhaps the gods have placed you here so that we may meet. As for what you have done...it does not matter. That is not what you will be remembered for." With this a light smile of reassurance lit his features.

Alsyrrya almost gasped. Her eyes widened yet again, lips parted as she took in who she spoke to. Of course he looked familiar, but she would not reveal herself. She curtsied to the best of her ability. "Forgive me, sire. I did not know it was you."

"There is no need for formalities now." He smiled in assurance, raising a hand to stop her.

Alsyrrya rose to her full height again, straightening herself to appear slightly more presentable. She now cursed herself for only wearing a prisoner's attire instead of her traveling clothes that she had previously. "What should I do now?"

"You will find your own path." The emperor's smile faded. "Take care...there will be blood and death before the end."

With this, his companions urged him to continue forward as the stones in the wall to Alsyrrya's right shifted. Soon they pulled away to reveal a set of steps that led into a secret chamber. The girl stepped back, pressing herself into the rock behind her, afraid to be in the way.

"Looks like this is your lucky day," the redguard in armor said over his shoulder. He then continued forward. "Just stay out of our way."

The girl stared into the darkness below, watching the torchlight emanating from the party slowly fade away. She was frightened of what was to come, say the least. But as quickly as her trepidation came, a sense of determination followed in its wake. Something pushed her to follow after the emperor, something fierce that had been buried within her all along. She knew that her life would be forever changed the moment she took those steps down into the hidden chamber.

With soft, timid movements she nimbly followed behind, bare feet patting against the stone. There was no turning back now; not when fates' hand was at play...

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 **A/N: l hope you enjoyed this chapter! I know that prologue was left very open and short but it's intentional, I promise lol. I'm just so excited to be inspired to write again. Now that I'm taking time off (because of this damn morning sickness lol) I have time to get it all out there. :)**

 **ThatOneThatSeesGNS: Thank you so much! I'm glad you found it interesting!**


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